A Hunger for the Forbidden(33)

“No, I haven’t.” He kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers, and she forgot her lingering concerns.

Forgot about everything but what it felt like to have Matteo kissing her. Caressing her.

“Later—” he kissed the hollow of her throat “—I will do this right—” lowered his head and traced the line of her collarbone with his tongue. “I’ll taste every inch of you. Take time to savor you. Take your clothes off slowly. Look at those gorgeous curves.” He kissed her neck, bit her lightly like she’d done to him earlier. “Now, though … now I just need to be inside you.”

He started to gather her skirt up in his hands, the slippery fabric sliding up her legs easily. “Take your panties off,” he said.

She complied, her hands trembling as she worked her underwear down, kicking them to the side with her heels. He pushed her dress up around her hips, his hand hot on her thigh. He tugged her leg up around his, her back pinned against the wall of the elevator.

He tested her with his other hand, teasing her clitoris, sending streaks of white heat through her body with each pass his fingers made through her slick folds. “You didn’t lie,” he said. “You do want me.”

“Yes,” she said. “Tell me,” he said.

“I want you.”

“My name.”

“I want you, Matteo.”

He abandoned her body for a moment, working at his belt, shoving his slacks and underwear down, just enough to free his erection so that he could sink into her. It was a shock, all those weeks without him, and she’d forgotten just how big he was. Just how much he filled her. She let her head fall back against the wall of the elevator, pleasure building deep inside her, her internal muscles tightening around his length.

And then there was no more talking. There was nothing but their ragged breathing, Matteo moving hard and fast inside her, blunt fingertips digging into her hips as he held her steady, thrusting into her.

He lowered his head, capturing her nipple in his mouth again. A raw sound of pleasure escaped her lips and she didn’t even care. She wasn’t embarrassed at all.

Because this was Matteo. The man she’d always wanted. Wanted enough to break out of what was expected of her for the first time in her life. The man who had saved her, the man who made her angry and hurt her, the man who made her feel things she’d never felt before.

Matteo scared her. He confused her. He made her feel more than anyone else ever had.

And right now he was driving her to a point she’d never even imagined, to the edge of a cliff so high she couldn’t see the bottom of the chasm below.

She was afraid to fall, afraid to let the pleasure that was building in her break, because she didn’t know what would greet her on the other side. Didn’t know what would happen. And something would happen. Something would change. There was no question. None at all.

And then he looked at her, those dark eyes meeting hers, and she saw him. Not the mask, the man. Raw need, desperation and a fear that mirrored her own.

He lowered his head, his lips pressing against her neck, his thrusts losing their measured rhythm. And something in her broke, released. And she was falling, falling into that endless chasm. But she wasn’t afraid anymore.

Release rolled through her in waves, stealing every breath, every thought, everything but the moment.

And when she finally did reach bottom, Matteo was there, his strong arms around her. He was breathing hard, too, sweat on his brow, the back of his shirt damp, his heartbeat raging, so hard that, with his body pressed so tightly against hers, she could feel it against her own chest.

He stepped away from her slowly, running his hand over his hair, erasing the evidence that she’d ever speared her fingers through it. That she’d messed with his well-ordered control.

He adjusted his pants. Bent and collected his jacket, putting his phone back into his pocket. And she just stood there, her back to the wall, her dress still pushed partway up around her hips, the top resting at her waist, her underwear on the floor by her feet.

Matteo put his tie around his neck and started straightening it, too, before he looked at her. “Get dressed,” he said.

“What?”

“Get dressed,” he said. “We have to go back to the party.”

“W-we do?”

“It’s my charity,” he said. “I have a speech to make.” He checked his wristwatch. “And it seems I’m not too late for it so I really should try to manage it.”